


His Sunrise.

by TooMuchEffort



Series: Our Memories to keep. [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Fluffy?, M/M, The other half of the last Oneshot, i was bored, probs not - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 00:56:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6590158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooMuchEffort/pseuds/TooMuchEffort
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'll see you soon, Jean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Sunrise.

 

I've always been afraid of what i couldn't see in the dark.

Trapped in blankets of night, the only ray of hope a glittering silver disc that hung in solitude as it stretched across the night hues of navy and dark blue; the odd constellation passing behind as it stepped away to allow the moon passage.

It was at these times that I would let my mind ponder, think, imagine.

Imagine - that I was to lose the one friend that i felt would always be more than just "Friend." How in my years training, some of the people I have gotten to know so closely may not be standing beside me in a matter of years, months, days.

Funny how that turned out.

How ironic of me to think about losing someone when in the end I'm the one who lost my humanity.

And now? I follow his footsteps as he traced a path i wish i would rather not know; down spirals of alleys and stone walkways that circled me and turned my stomach - my unseen hand trying to reach out, as always.

Reaching out has yet to work.

My silent footsteps would remain close, by his side to try and at least let him feel the now absent warmth and encouragement that I would always give him - I wish I could just tap him on the shoulder, surprise him; maybe pretend that this was all a sick prank. But no. That'll never happen. He believes I exist as much as he believes in angels and demons - he's realistic, practical, too emotional to reach out to him.

At least i get to see him as he walks by; attending the site where a tragedy took place as much as he could.

The flowing, silken green cape the colour of the undergrowth that i long to be beneath my feet - lips chapped and nails chewed down to the skin; leather boots padding as he dared step over cracks of the stone and the glass that still lay scattered amongst the cobble...Festering like a disease that wouldn't go away no matter how hard you tried to ignore it.

Losing me made it worse for him.

He doesn't know what I know; that i was standing beside him through everything - even after death sunk it's claws into my skin like the large teeth that had-

Sunset...the sun was setting.

My hand mirrored his as pale, shaking fingers traced lines on stone walls. I would give up anything to hold them, reassure him and love him like i did long ago - during those nights we both feared as the reality of our situation slipped into our once naive minds. I would watch the reluctant soldier try and keep his shoulders straight, form rigid and jaw set as he composed him self - his skin was too pale; he had bags under his eyes and his hair was slightly matted and dirtied from not being kept.

I'm sorry.

I did this to you.

Orange, golden, yellow rays of the looming sunset would soon disappear and be replaced with cold, stone grey; but the canvas of glowing colour was marred by the soldier as he slowed his walk.

Sometimes i wished this were a watercolor image infront of me, so i could imagine that the streaks rolling rivers down sallow cheeks was the paint not drying, droplets splattered without realizing and scarring the perfect image.

Why?

I was always known for being at the wrong place at the wrong time when i was younger - during the days in Jinae where i could imagine myself living in a castle and eating myself sick, wearing the crest of protection, servitude and loyalty to the king.

I wish i could leave this place and see my home again.

The wings that fluttered and unfurled behind Jeans back would swish and fly in the breeze - soon the sunset fading, the soldier finally falling to his knees in defeat and anguish.

Keep flying on those wings Jean.

The sun may be fading into the night; but trust me.

When you fly too close to the sunrise and you fall, those wings melting off your back when you can't go on.

I'll be there to pick you up.

Until Sunrise, Jean.

**Author's Note:**

> Thankyou for reading, as always.


End file.
